The Soft Side Of Life
by Ennessee
Summary: After Lee's death, Connor and Haytham decide put their past behind them and live together as father and son. Only one problem: will the former Templar manage to fit in Connor and Achilles' lives while getting used to the Homestead's ways?
1. A New Arrival

**Hello everyone!**

**I began writing this fic about two years ago, but I eventually stopped. Having my inspiration back again, I have decided to revise it and re-publish it. **

**It is mostly a comedy, even though there are moments of reflection and serious conversations... it improves gradually as the relationship between Haytham, Connor and Achilles improves... I promise! **

**Let me know if you enjoy! :)**

* * *

It was a rather cold evening, and Connor and his Father were walking side by side through the narrow streets of Boston. It was later than they had planned; to worsen their already dark mood, there had been no meeting point in the ferocious argument that had inflamed their tempers shortly before. The day felt darker than ever. The truth was that neither of two men had got used yet to their new truce –now permanent, it seemed, since Charles Lee was finally dead. The choice of the Green Dragon as place where to spend the night had not helped them since the place oozed with Templar memories...

"Connor? For God's sake, what are you doing?!" Haytham asked, noticing that his son was kneeling down in a corner for no apparent reason. The boy mumbled something and then he went on with his silent whispering.

"Answer me, boy!" he exclaimed, this time louder.

"I will not leave you here, I promise. I will carry you with me, and we will be together forever and ever. Nothing and no-one will ever divide us".

"Connor? What is it, a love declaration to a stone? Or have you-" the Former Templar's words were trounced by what he saw.

"Ooh" was all he managed to say.

A small puppy dog, the tiniest he had ever seen, was looked up at his son with big, hungry eyes.

Haytham man kneeled down, his most ferocious grin on,with his eyes as cold as stone. His hands, which were still bloodstained from the last fight, now stretched out towards the animal in a slow and threatening way. Connor looked at his father, fearing that he could injure his new friend. In the end, after a seemingly endless pause, the older man opened slowly his mouth to pronounce himself on the matter.

"Pucci pucci pucci pucci... look at this little puppy... smoshy-wooshy mushy-gushy..."

Connor dropped his mouth open. That was not the reaction he had expected.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're taking him home, of course, to the Old Man, and we'll nurture him. He will be our little one. What are you waiting for, boy? Take off your jacket and let me wrap him in it! Do you have the courage to leave this sweetie-sugar here, shivering and starving in the cold?"

The Native boy nodded gravely, fully understanding the matter.

"About the name..."

"He will be called Bubba-Bo, Connor, and there will be no further talking about it! Come here, darling, your brother does not understand you..."

If anyone walking by had listed to them, he would have thought that they were both in urgent need for medical care; there was no other explanation to the fact that two feared grown-up men would be so involved with such an ugly half-breed dog.

It was around four o'clock in the night on the following day when the Old Man woke up, hearing noises from the outside. He jumped out of bed and he lit a candle. In the light of dawn, he could see two blurred figures appearing slowly.

'Connor and his father, no doubt' he thought, and he had almost convinced himself to go back to sleep when he saw something: a little white burden in Haytham's arms. He startled, jumping higher than his legs could support him and almost losing his balance. Haytham or Connor must have had a son, or absconded someone else's one, and surely they were planning to take him there and leave the baby to the elder man's care while working. He saw himself changing dirty napkins and felt close to fainting, or having a stroke. He could almost see himself, side by side with his former enemy, taking care of their shared grandson.

His suspects were denied by the fact that, as soon as the two men stepped in the house, the little bundle revealed a dog, 'Bubba-Bo'. This matter reassured him because it meant that he was not in for a precocious grandfather role, and that the ferocious Templar had completely lost his reason, hence not being a threat any longer.

Soon after the dog was revealed in all his pathetic cuteness, a new kind of fight began. Before the puppy's arrival the Old Man quarrelled with Haytham on matters such as their former alliances and their very different philosophies; now both him and Haytham began to argue about the dog. At first, the Assassin Mentor did not want to keep him inside the house, especially in the living room. Later, he and Haytham fought over which one of them could bring him on the bed. Haytham felt no shame in shouting and waving his big hands in order to gain the right to share his bed with his Bubba-Bo, and Connor felt a bit envious sometimes. He could not stop himself from smiling, though.


	2. Over The Smooth Edge Of The Cliff

About two months had passed from the dog's arrival when Connor announced that he was due to leave for a mission in Quebec.

"It will take a month, maybe two" he concluded.

"Very well, then" said Haytham wiping his lips clean with a napkin. He had to admit that he had never being enjoying eggs so much as he was now, at the Manor. He took a moment to exhale and then he asked: "When are we leaving?"

"_I _am leaving after breakfast".

"_You._ I see. And since when are you allowed to leave your... home without warning?" he looked at his son's Mentor, hoping to find support, but he got just a bothered sneer.

"I _always _leave my base when I am needed elsewhere, Father. I doubt you would do differently".

"And why exactly am I not allowed to come with you?"

"You would be a distraction" Connor concluded. He stood up and headed toward the kitchen.

"A distraction! Excuse me! I am an experienced man. My presence can only benefit your cause".

"You are gnawing off my patience, Father! I cannot stand you anymore!" He turned to face his parent, "you never, ever leave me alone, and I have to hear your constant grumbling even when I _think _I _could_ get some privacy in my room, at night"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes!"

During the argument, the elder Assassin sat in his usual chair and looked at the two men shouting against each other. He didn't favour either of the two, and when he finally stood up to clean the table the shouting had moved upstairs.

"What a bother" he grumbled between himself, bothered by the absence of quiet. "Come in, Bobby" he said louder upon hearing footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mentor. We are all waiting for Connor. The boy is late!"

"Yes. I don't think there will be any departure today. Here, have some tea".

As always, his predictions were right. Connor and Haytham went on shouting against each other and to bustle around the house, regardless of the passing of time. They had begun their argument over the young man's departure, and now they were insulting each other for completely different matters.

"... and you have such an ugly nose that I would feel ashamed to set my foot off the doorstep!" shouted Connor.

"Listen who's talking! If I had those ears I would be wearing a hood even while sleeping!"

"Guess who I got them from. You." For a moment, the two men stared at each other with challenging eyes. The Assassin took the first move: he started running, followed shortly after by his father, who could certainly not accept such dishonour.

"You are slow, Father!" he shouted looking behind his shoulders.

They had already passed the main street and where now approaching the wildest area of the Manor. Connor thought that that was happiness: having a family, someone to trust and who got mad at the thought of being deprived of him, the sound of pottery clashing at the dinner table, a day of rest, free of any duty, and without regret for it.

The scenario changed quickly in front of Connor's eyes: soon, the sea came into his sight alongside the Aquila. He slowed down: he could hear his father's panting become almost pained. He stopped completely in front of the edge of the cliff which offered the best view of the ship.

"Isn't this beautiful, Father?" he asked, turning back and smiling. His father's expression, which looked as if the man was going to burst out and scold his son in the worst of the ways, wavered at the sight of the boy's smiling face. His facial wrinkles contracted and his expression looked unnatural for a long minute. Then, finally, the man let go of his muscles and relaxed slowly so that they could reveal the strangest and most difficult smile ever seen.

"Now I almost understand, Father... what Ista has found in you that she liked" he murmured, coming nearer and awkwardly wrapping his arm around his father's shoulders. The man was surely a pain in the neck, but only at times. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth _tolerating_ him after all.


	3. The Dance

"Connor! Connor!" Norris shouted while running towards his friend. A whole month had passed since his hooded companion had departed for one of his missions, and now he had just come back.

As the dark-skinned man turned, Norris noticed another person standing beside him, one he feared: Connor's father. He couldn't really understand how come Connor decided to let him live.

"Norris! What a pleasure to meet you!" Connor exclaimed, parting his lips slightly in an awkward smile. His father kept walking, completely ignoring the two of them.

"Connor! We are organizing a-dance-party... in your honour!" he exclaimed.

"A dance party? Amazing, what those friends of yours provide you to thank you for your services, Connor. And I expect you will join, wearing your best suit?" said Haytham calmly.

"Father!"

"There will be a dance competition as well!" exclaimed Norris, ignoring him.

"Thank you, Norris, but I am a very busy man-"

"Nonsense! There will be no fun if you won't join! Please say yes!"

"But-"

"Please!" Norris kneeled by him and closed his eyes, "Myriam wants to go so badly!"

"... all right, but just for a little while".

"Yay!" he screamed, then got up and run away.

"Well done, son. May I ask you in which robes you will attend? Your Assassin ones? Or will you apt for a suit like mine, but more elegant, of course? Oh, I forgot" he said lastly, "I haven't asked you if you'd prefer a _dress_ instead."

"Father!"

"What? It was simple questioning"

"Maybe you are envious because _you _ haven't been invited"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. You know, probably this whole thing has been programmed by one of your miserable friend in the hope of making ends meet"

"I don't allow you to speak ill of them!"

"You cannot deny. So, are you joining in the dance competition?"  
"Shut up!"

* * *

"Connor has been invited to a dance competition!" Haytham announced as soon as they got home.

"Mh"

"Come on, Old man! Be optimistic!"

"... there is nothing to be optimistic about. It is just a terrible waste of time"

"I think he should go. Find himself a pretty woman and get married"

"A woman would only serve as distraction"

Haytham looked at the former Assassin Mentor with sceptic eyes.

"He has to carry on the Kenway line. Of course he will find a woman and have children. It is not _your _stock that we are talking about. That one is already gone, isn't it?"

For a long second, silence fell in the room. Then, an angry scream broke it.

"You miserable son of a -!" the elder man blurted before covering the distance between them in a few steps and punching his enemy straight in the face.

"You idiot! Not my fault if you were too ugly to find any woman!"

Since his return home, Haytham and his mortal enemy were particularly irascible and any excuse seemed good to pick up a fight. That day was no exception, but Haytham had the impression that his aggressor was acting with particular anger today.

The quarrel went on for a while, until Connor came back from the well and found both men with a bleeding nose.

"Enough!" he screamed. "You are just like children. What is it this time? Another broken glass? Some of you cheated while playing cards?"

"It seems like your father here is over-enjoying the fact that my... "stock" will not be carried on" The former Assassin said, and looking in his eyes Ratonhnhaké:ton found a mixture of anger, sadness and defeat that he had rarely seen in his mentor's eyes and that scared him deeply.

"What? Are you insane?" he yelled at his father as soon as the two were left alone in the room.

"He was the one to punch me. I do not fight _old people_" Haytham laughed.

"What did you tell him?"

"Does it have any importance now?"

"Yes, it does!" he exclaimed as his strong arms pushed his father against the kitchen wall and blocked him with under his jaw.

"Look at me, boy! He was the one to call for the fight!"

Connor had to admit, Achilles was getting older, but his blows seemed as fatal as his own. Haytham's nose was bleeding heavily and his cheek was scratched and bruised. Some blood had been split on the floor.

"I am not stupid, son. I suppose what was just a joke in the end somehow wounded him". His voice was softer now, almost comprehensive.

"It... you cannot know"

"No. It must be harsh to have no-one there. Before... before knowing about you, I got quite susceptible at people asking me why I didn't have a family. I just... I didn't think it could get so personal, that's all".

Connor lowered his gaze.

"Is there more? Connor?"

"Achilles lost his family. I... I would appreciate if you would not talk about this with him".

* * *

Haytham sat in his room, alone. There were bandages covering his face. He didn't want to admit it, but he was hurt. One of the punches directed to his stomach had almost made him vomit. Deep inside, he could understand what the man's struggle. He dealt with it too. He knew how difficult it could be at times.

* * *

"So". Haytham said awkwardly, walking in the living room.

"... " there was no answer. The former Templar Grandmaster saw dark hands working with needle and thread.

"What are you doing?"

"Mending trousers. From my wedding suit. Connor will wear it tonight"

"..."

"I could barely stand that day... and here it is a little tear in the fabric". He finally raised his eyes.

Haytham opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment Connor entered the room.

"I am ready to go". Then he headed towards the door.

"Connor!" Haytham yelled, "you are surely going to find a girl if you go out like this!"

"Is this a compliment, Father?" the boy asked, entering the room and showing himself.

"No, my dear: just self-boasting. I am sure you got that amazing harness from me, son".

Connor looked down at himself and he realized that he was naked from the girdle downwards, except from his shoes. He cupped his manly organ in his hand and hid behind the door.

"Not the first time that happens. Here, boy. Trousers. Now, don't be ashamed. All man here".

"Achilles! Is Connor ready?" called Myriam's voice from the window.

"Just a moment!" he called back, handling his pupil the piece of clothing.

Connor came back, this time wearing underwear.

"Those underwear..."

"Later... promise"

Haytham decided that now was time to speak his mind. "You look... elegant, son. Have fun"

"Aren't you coming?"

"No, this is your time. Go now, boy!"

* * *

"I appreciate it. What you do for him".

"..."

"I... I am sorry for today. I didn't-"

"So... you aren't going to enjoy yourself? Find yourself a nice girl half your age. I do think Connor fancies a girl".

"I could never... not after Ziio's death. After I knew what happened to her, I... I could never look at another woman again. Not even prostitutes. They are all worthless... worthless, compared to her..."

The air grew heavy. The silence hissed words of hate and timeless bitter. In a matter of minutes, Haytham lost the cognition of space and he found himself staring in the vacuum and swimming in an ancient sorrow.

He didn't notice that the man next to him left the room.

He didn't notice that he was absent for a little while.

He didn't even notice when he came back.

"So? Aren't you ready yet?"

"Mh?"

Haytham raised his eyes slowly.

"What...!?"

The Old Man was wearing a long black coat that covered his body entirely. On his head, a hat with a long brim, wrapped with a veil and with a sort of handkerchief on his face to hide his features.

"They said there was going to be a dance competition, right? Well? Teams are always stronger".

"What-"

"I have another outfit like this for you. Hurry up!"

* * *

The Inn was very crowded. People sat at the tables enjoying their ales and chatting. The atmosphere was relaxing and for a moment Haytham believed to be elsewhere.

"It is a masquerade! There is Connor".

"Shh! Be quiet!"

"Right, right Old Man! Do you remember the steps?"

"I do" he replied, clinging to the former Templar Grandmaster for support.

"Look at Connor! He is-"

"Shh! Here, they are calling!"

A man dressed up in a smart suit cleared his throat and the orchestra stopped playing.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome the- Hey, hey! You two! What are you doing?"

The two mysterious men wrapped up in those funny black clothes stepped in front of the crowd.

"Play something!" asked the taller one with a husky voice. And then the dance began.

* * *

"Quick! Run!" yelled Haytham, but his voice could scarcely be heard over the clapping that came from inside.

"Easy for you to say! You don't have this hurt knee!"

"Behind you!"

The former Assassin Mentor turned.

Connor.

Looking at him.

This gave him the push and he started running faster than he had in the last twenty-five years.

The dancers that had raised such enthusiasm and acclaim were now sprinting, hand in hand, towards the house on the hill. Once inside, Haytham shut the door closed and kneeled on the floor. He finally let out a chuckle and soon both he and his companion were rolling on the floor, sick with laughter. When they finally managed to take a good breath and unfasten their hats, they stood up and headed towards the kitchen for a glass of wine.

"I think I never had so much fun in... years"

"Do you think we won?"

"I don't know, Old Man, ... I really don't care, mate!"

"Let's go to sleep. It is past the bedtime for babies like you".


	4. The Mystery Woman

On the floor of the Manor's bedroom, two men were drowning in their own laughter.

"And then... and then I said, 'Get the hell out of my hand!" exclaimed the former Assassin.

"And what did he do?" asked the Templar, taking another mouthful of bread and a long sip of wine.

"Then, of course, he didn't go away. Stubborn boy"

"I'm glad he didn't. God knows where he'd be now".

"And you, too. Probably still a scoundrel among your Templar friends" said the older man.

"I don't want to talk about that, now"

The air grew a little heavier. The past had never been an appropriate topic of conversation in that house, not even that night, when spring seemed to have melted old angst and hatred. Some sore spots were simply too painful for both of them.

"Wasn't it a shock for you? Discovering that he was my son?"

"It was. But not that much"

"And now... look at us. Sitting in the same room, chatting like old friends"

"Well, that's a big word".

Haytham closed his eyes and rested his head against the bed's feet. That life was not so bad after all. The wind was gently blowing between the just-born leaves; soon, flowers would blossom and new bushes would cover the green meadow of the Manor. He listened to the sounds around him and he could not find any of the disturbing noises of the city: no carriages passing by, no shouts from nearby taverns. All he could hear was the wind, his new friend's light snoring and light steps from the path which lead to the Manor.

Steps.

"Wake up, Old Man!" He whispered, shaking the man's shoulder. 'Bloody hell. Why did he have to fall asleep now?' He thought.

"What?"

"Steps. Connor." They both looked at themselves. They were still wearing the dance clothes, and the surely could not justify their sudden friendship after such a bad fight to Connor.

Quickly, they hid any signs of their dinner in the wardrobe; Haytham crawled under the desk while the elder man snuffed the candles and got in bed, fully clothed and with his hair in a complete mess.

A long minute passed by. Then another one. Just when the former Assassin had began to wave to signal that he had no intention of sleeping in a room with his worst enemy did the door open. In a few second, everything calmed down again.

"Old Man?" Called Connor with a jovial voice. He stepped lightly in the dim candle light, and for a moment Haytham felt very proud of his boy. He saw him standing in front of him, just a few feet away, looking just like a true man, proud and fierce and handsome. His boy.

Connor approached the bed without making a sound. He walked towards the chair by the window and he groped at the chair's arm, probably looking for the man who had been watching over him for the past ten years. Not finding him, he turned to the bed.

"You're finally sleeping in a proper bed, Old Man" he whispered softly, voice full of affection.

Haytham felt a stab of envy in his guts, but busied himself to hush those feelings before they engulfed him. He was so focused in this attempt that he almost skipped what happened next.

A low giggle. And the swift of a long gown.

"Old man!" He exclaimed in a whisper.

"Shut up! Do you want to be discovered?"

"Connor's upstairs"

"His ears work pretty well, you know, unlike ours".

"He brought a girl upstairs"

"What?!" Achilles exclaimed, sitting bolt right on the bed.

"He brought someone with him. I saw her dress".

"You saw?"

A laugh interrupted their words. Connor.

"I saw her shadow"

"Well, it must be true. You don't hear the poor boy laughing often"

"Weren't you the one saying a girl would be a distraction to him?"

"Weren't you the one talking about descendants? Don't tell me you're jealous"

"I am not. As a matter of fact, I do think that time has come for him to lose his virginity. He has passed the twentieth year of age"

"Well... That's not for us to say. But I suppose you're right. It must not be easy for him to live with two men who constantly watch over him. We should let him know that he can do what he wants as far as he's discrete. As he's always been, as a matter of fact"

"What? You mean he's been with a woman before?"

"I'm not saying anything. Now, go to sleep and don't disturb them, right? It is late and I want to get into my chair".

"But... My room is next to his!"

"It is"

"Do you think he has been drinking?"

"I don't, but who can say"

"I don't want to invade his privacy"

"The kitchen has comfortable benches. No one is forbidding you to spend the night on them, or in Bubba's nest"

"All right, I understand. Good night".

"Good night"

Haytham slowly climbed the first couple of stairs.

As the formal Grand Master of the Colonial Rite (how ridiculous it sounded to him right now!) slowly climbed one step after the other, he thought that maybe he had been wrong. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to look at the kitchen's chair with such despise.

Sighing, Haytham moved a step forward.

* * *

On the following morning, Connor woke up later than usual. The sun was shining in the cloudy sky, and even though the clouds threatened to spit some rain, his mood couldn't have been better. He stirred in the large bed, causing the blue cloak Ellen had given him to fall on the ground with a pleasant swishing sound.

"But where are the old ones?" he said to himself as he walked into the empty kitchen. Unlike usual, there was no one downstairs notwithstanding of the late hour.

"They must have gone out" he thought, and a side of him was grateful that neither of them was there to witness his hangover. He had drunk too much the previous night, more than he ever had, and now his head felt sore and his limbs dumb.

The young Assassin drank a long gulp of water before checking on his father's bedroom. He was always a bit afraid that he might leave any moment, more so now that he had a bad argument with him.

As he imagined, his bed was empty, but all his things seemed in the right place, even his hat. And his clothes.

'Strange' Connor thought, 'he never goes anywhere without his hat. Or his cloak".

Now with slight concern, he decided to check on his mentor. Maybe he would know where his father was to be found.

Silently, Connor entered the man's room. Even by standing on the doorframe, he could hear the familiar soft snoring which made him smile in relief.

However, something didn't quite fit in the picture.

The young boy walked stealthily on the left side of the bed, the one that was usually left empty. Usually. Now there was someone there.

He blushed only at the thought of what he was doing. He had no right to intrude the Old Man's privacy, but curiosity won over him.

As he delicately removed the bed sheet from the mystery woman's face, he realised that he had made a mistake.

There was no woman under the sheets. Connor had to stiff a sigh of relief, and a burst of laughter.

Under the covers, his father slept peacefully, still dresses in the ridiculous black robes he had been wearing to that silly dance competition. His forehead bore signs of a struggle, perhaps that which had awarded him the right of sleeping in that bed.

Still, Connor had a question: what could have made his proud father run to his worst enemy's side like a little, frightened baby?

* * *

A couple of hours later, three men sat around a table. Everything was ready for lunch, but no one ate. The young boy was having a terrible laughing fit he was trying to cover with coughing. A man that looked very much like him fixed his full plate with an apparently stern face but a proud look in his eyes. The third man looked extremely confused.


	5. Surprise

Summer came to an end much faster than Connor had expected, and so arrived the moment to resume his endless travelling and roaming in the hope of putting an end to the weakened Templar presence in North America. However, the peaceful weeks spent at the Homestead during his so-called 'holidays' were a beautiful memory in Connor's mind. Whenever he felt tired of running after enemies or nauseous because of the Aquila's endless swinging and rocking, he remembered how nice it felt to bask in the dying sunlight at dawn, or to splash his father with cold water whenever he felt behaving like an annoying brat.

Six whole months had passed and now Connor was finally home again. As he rode through the dusty and uphill roads leading to the Manor, he wandered about how his father and Achilles had gotten along during that time. Had they fought or argued? Where they still growling at each other when it came to clearing the table? Had the dog recovered from his cold? His Mentor had never hinted at any of it in his letters, which relieved him, but he couldn't be sure. On the other hand, Haytham had not written to him, not even a scrap of paper bore his signature. This didn't surprise the boy, but didn't please him, either.

Anyway, all of this felt somewhat in the background as he finally tethered his horse in the stable and run up the stairs.

"Old men!" he exclaimed once at the top, smiling at his Mentor who was standing in front of the door to greet him with Bubba-Boo wagging its tail by his side.

"Welcome back, Connor. You must be hungry" he said simply, gesturing him to go inside.

In front of a warm plate of soup, they begun to talk about everything that had happened in those last months they hadn't seen each other.

"What about Father?" Connor asked in the end, "he hasn't come to welcome me home"

"He's barely been around of late. All I see of him is the tail of his horse in the morning and his stinky boots late at night" he said with clear irritation in his voice.

"What do you mean? Do you think he has resumed Templar business?" Connor asked in alarm. Without managing to contain his anxiety at the thought, he stood up and began to walk up and down the room.

"Now, calm down boy. I have never thought about that"

"And have you let him do it? He's old. He can't do much horse riding" Connor said, receiving a dry laugh in response.

"You are worried, aren't you? Well, I'll tell you what. I have done my investigations, just like any Assassin should do" the old Mentor started, but he stopped as the noise of a door banging made the walls tremble.

"How many bloody times have I told you not to do that?" the man snapped, standing up and grabbing his cane in a threatening fashion, "you will get out and then come in again in a decent way!"  
"I will not!" Haytham exclaimed, "I can slam that door as hard as I like"

"No, you can't. This is my home!"

At this point the formal Templar Grandmaster, oblivious to the presence of his son, threw his hat on the floor and stumped a foot.

"You're such a baby!"

"Me? Don't begin, boy! I'm fifteen years older than you"

"Well, your behaviour doesn't show for it"  
"It does. You are the irresponsible one"

"Me? If I am not wrong, you were the one to touch my books the other day, prying like an old gossiping lady"

"I did it for the good of this Homestead"

"You did it for curiosity!"

"...instead of helping me around you've been going God knows where"

"... And then you moved my chair back inside again!"

"Enough!" Connor exclaimed, standing up with a sigh, "you do look like an old married couple arguing and fussing over nonsense"

"Son... you're back" Haytham stated plainly, fixing his eyes on the boy as if he had forgotten what he looked like. Then, after a long moment of hesitation, he resumed talking. "You might as well tell your Mentor to take his long nose out of my business"

"My nose is not long!"  
The young Assassin sighed. "It has been a long journey. I have travelled all night long to come back as soon as possible and rest as much as I can"

"Reasonable. I, too, am tired. I will be in my room with my books. Whoever dares to enter will be the victim of my rage. Understood?"

That said, Haytham collected his hat from the ground and run upstairs without another word. The door slammed again- less noisily this time- and then peace descended again.

"Well, that was a warm greeting" Achilles commented.

"I guess he's... busy working with something"

"Yes, but I wonder what it is. Entering in his room is impossible, and as for following him... well, I was too slow. Now, since your father is ignoring you, what do you thing about a game of chess?"

* * *

After having spent his time chatting and playing with his Mentor and after a rather satisfying bath, Connor was not under the bedcovers, reading a silly book in the dim light of a candle. Suddenly, just when he had decided that the time had come for him to close his eyes and sleep, he heard steps in the corridor and then further down the stairs.

"What is he doing now?" the boy asked himself, "where is he going?"

Without wasting another moment, he jumped off the bed and slid his socks on. Then, silently, he made his way downstairs. He looked everywhere, careful not to make any noise. First, he checked the Old Man's room only to find his tired Mentor snoring. Then he moved into the dining room and then from the study into the kitchen. There was no one around. In the end, just when he had gone back upstairs and considered going to sleep once and for all, he noticed something was... different. He could hardly stifle a horror gasp when he spotted one of the forbidden doors opened. It had been countless years since Achilles had sealed part of the house, hoping to forget the golden times when he was the head of countless recruits and veterans, and when his family was alive and well.

Trespassing that boundary, or even talking about it... well, it was something the boy would never do. What was his father even doing in there? What was he looking for? Maybe... Maybe he was looking for something that had been hidden in that part of the house. Some piece of information that could fall in the hands of the enemy...

Silently, Connor moved along the corridor. If his father was busy, he wouldn't notice a little intromission in his room that had been carelessly left opened.

'If he has anything to hide, he'll sure be hiding it in here' he thought, and without wasting a moment he began rampaging through his father's things as quickly as he could.

"And what would this be?" he asked himself aloud, taking one of the many books scattered on the floor. He skimmed through the pages, the many pictures of the books catching his eyes.

"Is he taking an interest in botanic?" There were plants accurately drawn in the inside of the books, strange trees and bushes he had never seen in his life.

"Take your hands off _my things_!" a voice called. _Haytham._

"What do you think you were doing? Those rooms are sealed!" Connor confronted him.

"That is not a good excuse to search my things! Now off to bed, lad!"

* * *

Connor couldn't make sense of what he had seen in his father's books. There was something going on, that much was sure, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Unable to stop wondering and hence to focus on his studies, the young Assassin decided to have an early lunch and headed to Corinne's inn.

"Good morning, Connor!" Norris greeted him from a distance, "happy to see you back!"

Connor grinned and waved him good morning, too. "I will come and visit you once your work is done" he yelled back, not willing to distract his friend.

"Fine. Anyway, your father's got good!"

At this point, the boy stopped, surprised. Was it possible that Norris was in possession on information he didn't have? He shook his head. Maybe his friend was referring to the fact that since his father was no longer around, he felt better about it.

However, as he kept walking on the dusty country path, at least another couple people repeated the same comment:

"Your daddy is becoming a star!"

"I bet now it's Haytham who does the job!"

Distressed by his ignorance and willing to quench his hunger before getting back to work, Connor vigorously opened the inn's door.

"Lad! What a pleasure to have you here!" Olivier welcomed him, gesturing one of the waiters to get the best spot ready for him to sit.

"Come! I was sure I would see you around one of these days"

The young Assassin settled down, the anticipation of eating setting his spirits higher. He even let out a chuckle when he was presented with an odd-looking piece of wood on top of which a parchment had been attached.

"This is called the menu. It is a list of everything that can be ordered from the kitchen. We've had a new instalment back there. I imagine you remember that"  
Connor nodded distractedly, his mind lazily recalling the matter from some time before.

"All right. I will take-"

In that precise moment, the door connecting the kitchens with the restaurant swung open, and Corinne emerged from the floury environment with two plates which wafted a beautiful scent in the air. It was something else that caught Connor's attention, though.

"The broth is ready. The fish is almost cooked, too"

The Assassin stood up, disbelief washing over him.

* * *

The boy was amazed by how transformed his father looked inside that kitchen. He had tied a sort of bandana on his head to keep his hair back and was wearing a white apron in order to avoid fat stains on his clothes.

"Well, I imagine you feel surprised" Haytham stated, a little upset.

Connor nodded slightly as he took another enormous bite of the pork sandwich he was eating.

"And yet, here I am. At first I hated the Old Man for making me do chores such as cooking and cleaning vegetables. Then hatred has developed into a passion"

"For the kitchen or for the Old Man?" Connor joked with a mischievous look.

"Don't be silly"

"So you decided to get employed as a kitchen boy"

"I am more than a kitchen boy!" Haytham exclaimed, feeling his pride offended, "I am a cook now"

"Really"

"Yes, really. Now Achilles' complaints about my 'British style' cosine have come to an end. You must have noticed that"

"Not really" he said with his mouth ful., Haytham ignored his lack of manners and kept on talking.

"Anyway, I am confident that you will keep the secret. Everyone has sworn to, in preparation of the competition"  
"What competition?"

"Don't you know? I am bound to become the Homestead's first Masterchef!"


End file.
